


Love The One You're With

by backitup_baby



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, F/F, Quinntana Week, Quinntana Week 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backitup_baby/pseuds/backitup_baby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez are freshmen at University of California, Berkeley, in 1978. A friendly politics discussion between roommates turns into more than Quinn bargained for when Santana decide to give her some opportunities for real-life experimentation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love The One You're With

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Quinntana Week 2013](http://quinntanaweek2013.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, for Day Four: Historical Time Period. Title taken from "Love The One You're With" by Crosby, Stills, & Nash.

“I just don’t think it’s, you know.” Quinn pauses for a moment, clearly trying to find the phrasing she wants, she sits down onto her bed, swinging her legs beneath her, and looks up at Santana.

Her roommate is sitting on her own bed, legs tucked underneath her body, clearly trying to contain herself. A pennant proclaiming ‘University of California, Berkeley, Class of 1981’ is to her right, pinned to the wall next to the calendar that states the current month as February 1978. “It’s what?” she asks slowly, brown eyes raising to make direct eye contact with Quinn. “Tell me what you were thinking. Please. I know how you _love_ to educate people.”

Quinn glances down at her hands and realizes she’s rubbing her thumbs together, a nervous habit she’s never been able to stop. It’s been her easiest tell for anxiety for as long as she can remember. “Just, you know. It’s not natural. The Bible says –”

“Oh, come on.” Santana interrupts her immediately and there’s a change to her voice now, an edge that wasn’t there before. “Let me give you the skinny on the _Bible_. There’s a lot in there that isn’t true and you know it. Like evolution. You know that happened, right?”

Quinn nods her head slightly; she can feel the heat pooling in her cheeks as Santana starts bringing up all the things she’s been questioning, herself, since she started college at Berkeley. “I know. It’s just…”

“‘Not natural,’” Santana interrupts again, her voice scaling up slightly as she does a near-perfect imitation of Quinn’s phrasing. Quinn scowls at Santana from underneath her flicked bangs, but her roommate ignores it entirely. “You’re such a square. We’ve been at Berkeley for a semester and a half and you haven’t done _any_ mellowing out at all. Aren’t you in college to broaden your horizons? Whether you like it or not, Milk’s in office now. We don’t even live in San Francisco and you’re terrified about a gay man having power. Don’t be such a chump, Quinn.”

“I’m not _terrified_ ,” Quinn says immediately, her eyes narrowing as she stares back at her roommate. As usual, even though she doesn’t have her legs draped off the bed and crossed at the ankles like a lady, Santana is wearing a jean miniskirt. The hem is high on her thighs and Quinn brings her eyes up immediately to Santana’s face once she realizes she’s staring. “And I’m _not_ a chump.”

Santana leans forward to push herself off the bed, then walks over to Quinn’s side of the room. She places her hands steadily on either side of Quinn, holding her gaze, and Quinn swallows heavily in response to her nearness. She can smell Santana’s perfume radiating off of her; the scent makes her feel heady. “You’re the chumpiest chump I ever did see, bunny.” 

“I –” Quinn narrows her eyes even more, her lips pursing as she looks back at her roommate. Somehow, it feels impossible to look away despite the close proximity. “What are you doing? You aren’t - one of _them_ , are you? Have you been a homosexual all this time that we were living together?”

The look on her face must be comical or something, even though the whole situation feels like life or death to Quinn, because Santana starts laughing. She doesn’t back away, though, and her hands are still on either side of Quinn, and it feels like she’s suffocating in Santana; the other girl takes up her hearing and her vision to the point where she can’t even think straight. “Let’s just say that I’m a liberated woman,” Santana finally says, once she’s managed to control her laughter. “I don’t limit my love. What’s the point?”

“What’s the _point_ , what’s the point is that I’m waiting for _marriage_ and I don’t think my future husband would appreciate it much if I went… free loving all over Berkeley.” Quinn sets her jaw, trying to feel as determined and stubborn as she sounds. 

Santana leans in closer, stooping down slightly to account for her current state above Quinn, and licks her lips. “What your future husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you dig?”

Quinn’s mind tells her to lean backwards, away from Santana, to resume the safe amount of space between them, but her body seems to have ideas of its own. There’s some kind of tension that’s in the room, suddenly, as she moves forward, angling her head back. Her mind, at least, still seems to have control over her mouth for now. “Get real. I don’t know what you’re implying, but –”

And suddenly Santana’s mouth is on hers, warm and wet as she presses her lips against Quinn’s. She must have moved her hands, too, since Quinn can feel Santana’s thumbs stroking up and down the sides of her bell-bottom jeans. Quinn hears a sound, quiet and muffled, and she’s honestly not sure who made it as she arches her back slightly, instinctively, trying to lean up and against Santana as she returns the kiss. 

Then, as soon as it started, it’s over. Santana pulls away, stepping backwards until she’s leaning against her own bed with an easy smirk on her face. “Not bad for a square,” she compliments. “Seemed pretty _natural_ to me.”

Quinn can’t help herself; she brings her fingertips up to her lips, feeling for evidence that all of that had really occurred just now. She can tell her lips are sticky with Santana’s lip gloss and the thought makes her blush darken even further. 

Before she can say anything, though, Santana bends down to retrieve a leather fringe purse, slinging the strap over her shoulder. “I’m going to grab a smoke. You know where to find me, baby.”

Quinn stares after her, even after the door closes and she’s left alone. Her hand is still at her mouth and she can tell she’s trembling, slightly, over what just happened and what she wants and all of the possibilities in between. “Yeah, I’ll find you,” she says quietly to herself, her eyes still on the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I... really liked playing around with this setting. Maybe there'll be more after I finish my never-ending WIPs. I'd love to hear what you think.


End file.
